


Crack in the Coffee

by ButterflyGhost



Category: due South
Genre: Comedy, Crack, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 10:37:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8159147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyGhost/pseuds/ButterflyGhost
Summary: Ray really shouldn't have let Fraser drink that hazelnut creamer....





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [happy29](https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy29/gifts).



 

Fraser frowned down at his coffee cup then glanced at Ray accusingly.

“You can’t honestly expect me to drink this?”

“Why not?” Ray glared at him. Fraser had a bug in his butt. Ray didn’t know why, but he recognised a Fraser related butt-bug a mile away, and this was a kingsized bug. “That’s primo coffee –”

“It’s Keurig,” Fraser said it like it explained everything, which it didn’t. “Besides which –”

“What do you mean it’s Keurig? What’s wrong with Keurig?”

“Well, in terms of the quality of the coffee it makes, at least so far as I can smell it, it's excellent coffee. However, the use of individualised plastic pods to dispense the coffee is – well – it’s atrocious for the environment.”

Ray groaned. “Frase, have you heard of recycling?”

Fraser raised an eyebrow. Sometimes Ray thought he should have been on Star Trek. He had that Vulcan ‘smarter than thou’ thing down pat. Come to think of it; he could probably do that neck pinch thing too. He definitely had the Pon Far, though since Ray shook it loose it had been going on for more than seven years, so ha! Screw you, Spock.

Not literally. He preferred Fraser.

“Yes, Ray. I have heard of recycling. The average American on the other hand –”

“Average American?” Ray scowled. “Kinda racist, aren’t you? Generalising a bit there.”

Fraser paused and looked uncomfortable. Ray did an invisible psychic air punch. Yeah! He’d got him on that one. “In case you were wondering, Vecchio was exactly the same about Keuri – Curry – uh –” He gestured at the coffee machine. “That thing. I mean, not because of recycling, but because he’s all ‘oh, only fresh ground beans gathered by virgins on the south side of a mountain in Sicily on the night of a full moon is proper coffee.”

“I’m sure Ray never said –”

“Hey, this is my version of an Inuit tale. It’s instructionable, who cares if it’s true or not?”

Fraser lifted a forefinger, just like Mrs MacGinty back in Elementary. It was Ray’s turn to glare.

“Hey! I’m waxing profound here! So listen.”

Fraser looked chastened. “Yes, Ray.”

Ray paused for a surprised moment. He hadn’t expected Fraser to give in so soon. “Okay then.” Where was he? “Where was I?”

“You were chastising me for racism, and exaggerating Ray Vecchio’s gustatory tastes to make a point.” Fraser frowned. “Although, to be honest, I have no idea what that point was.”

“Oh, now you know how the rest of us feel!” Ray couldn’t help crowing.

“Please,” Fraser said, dryly. “Elucidate.”

“Okay, okay.” What was the point? “Oh, yeah. So, what I’m saying is, Vecchio didn’t like that pod thing either,” he gestured at the Keurig. “But then he had a cup. And now his Italian ass loves it.”

“Ray,” Fraser murmured. “Don’t be racist.”

Ray narrowed his gaze. “Prick.”

“Where?” Fraser looked around in seeming innocence and Ray cracked up laughing.

“Don’t be rude, Frase. Have a cup of coffee. In fact...” his eyes gleamed as a mischievous idea hit him. “You have to try that hazelnut creamer.”

“Oh, no!” Fraser looked alarmed. “I’ll try the coffee, but Nestle....”

“Hey, it’s Frannie’s favourite. If she comes back and you haven't tried it she'd be upset. You don’t want her to think you’re judgemental, do you?”

“Oh dear.” Fraser looked at his hands, flat on the table top with some concern. “Well, I certainly don’t want to upset the Vecchios.”

“That’s a boy,” Ray said, understandably smug, and went to get the creamer.  
~*~

Half an hour later he was not feeling smug.

“Uh, Fraser?”

“Shut up, Ray.” Fraser’s eyes were bright and glittery. “I’m about to level up.”

Shut up? Mounties did not say ‘shut up,’ did they? Then again, they probably didn’t lie on their bellies staring at a tv screen shooting up aliens either.

“You do know it’s Vinnie’s turn?”

“No, it’s not!” Fraser jerked sideways to make sure Vinnie couldn’t snatch the controller off him. Vinnie, who was sitting on the rug next to Fraser, looked as tragic as a nine-year-old could. His lower lip stuck out and started wobbling. He was probably putting it on, that boy had always been able to cry at the drop of a hat, but Ray really didn’t want to be there if Fraser made Frannie’s rug rat cry. Even fake cry. Oh God.

“Frase,” he dropped his voice. If Fraser had somehow turned into a five-year-old (because he was being more of a brat than Vinnie, which was saying something) then Ray would have to resort to bribery. “If you let Vinnie have a go you can have some icecream.”

Fraser turned his head and smiled brightly, all crankiness forgotten. “Pumpkin?”

“Yeah, anything you like.”

“Coffee with creamer?”

“Uh...” Oh dear. “Yeah, okay.”

Fraser beamed. Vinnie didn’t. He just looked even more tragic. “How come he gets icecream?” he whined.

“We all get icecream,” Ray declared. He wasn’t entirely sure that more sugar was the answer, but at least it would prevent tears and tantrums.

He hoped.  
~*~

When Vecchio got back Fraser was asleep on the couch, his face covered in the remains of pumpkin icecream, popcorn scattered across his shirt, still clutching the controller. He was snoring.

Vecchio took one look at him.

“Oh God,” he said. “Kowalski, you stupid fuck. You made him drink coffee.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Well, he was doing that whole environmental thing, and it was getting on my nerves and –”

“Please tell me you didn’t let him drink the creamer?”

“Uh....”

Vecchio pinched the bridge of his nose and looked pained. “Madre de Dio,” he muttered and opened the fridge door.

After a long and chilly silence, he shut the door and turned his back on the evidence. “Kowalski,” his spoke in level, menacing tones. “He’s drunk God knows how much coffee and about a litre of hazelnut creamer.”

“Uh, yeah. And, uh, had icecream and popcorn and....” he winced. “Burgers.”

“Not MacDonald’s?”

“No!” Ray swallowed. “Wendy’s.”

“Wendy’s.” Vecchio sighed. “You know what that much junk food does to Benny?”

“Well, I do now!”

“How can you two be married and you not know he’s got a convenience food problem!”

“He should have told me!”

Vecchio groaned and looked at Ray like he was talking to a halfwit, which maybe he was. “What makes you think he’ll remember this in the morning! He’s going to wake up with a bastard of a headache, sick as a dog, and no fucking idea what happened. He’ll probably think you got him drunk.”

“That would have been preferable,” Ray mumbled.

Vecchio gave him a look of horror. “No, no, no. You do not want to see Benny drunk.”

Kowalski snapped his head up. “You’ve seen him drunk?”

“Look, don’t go there, Kowalski. The jello shots were a mistake. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Jello shots?”

“He didn’t know, and he only had two and....” Vecchio hung his head. “Look – in future – just remember. Benny’s metabolism is not like ours. He grew up in the frozen North, with nothing but fresh air and not a doughnut in sight. He never got used to the crap we eat.”

“We don’t eat crap! You’re as bad as he is!”

“Yeah, whatever. Just admit it. You slipped him a hazelnut micky and he wigged out like there was crack in the creamer.”

Ray thought about it. “Uh, yeah. There wasn’t, was there?”

“No! Idiot! Just, high fructose corn syrup does things to him. And, uh, too much coffee. And –” Vecchio paused and looked into the living room. “Well. He can handle pizza.”

“Thank God for that,” Ray muttered.

“Okay. So now you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Vecchio raised his eyebrows. He was doing that Spock thing. “And now that you know will you ever do it again?”

“No.” Ray scuffed his foot against the kitchen tiles. “I’m sorry.”

“Good.” Vecchio sighed. “Suppose we’d better get a blanket.”

“Uh, Vecchio?”

“Yeah?”

“You know Frannie’s rugrats?”

“Yeah?” Vecchio narrowed his eyes. “The ones we have for the next three days?”

“They might be full of sugar as well.”

Vecchio stared at him for a full minute. Upstairs Vinnie started wailing.

Ray scratched the back of his neck. No getting out of it - he'd fucked up big time.

“Kowalski?”

“Yeah?”

“I hate you.”

“Uhm..." Ray winced, then tried to look contrite. “Understood?”

**Author's Note:**

> Blame Happy29 for introducing me to American coffee last year, enabling my addiction this year, feeding me pumpkin ice cream and hazelnut creamer. I'm not saying that this is based on real events... just that it might be. (Written under the influence.)


End file.
